


Method

by AngelicSentinel



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, F/M, Skip Beat! Secret Santa 2015, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicSentinel/pseuds/AngelicSentinel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyoko is enjoying her career when President Lory sends her a script out of nowhere. She's nervous, but she thinks she can handle it when a surprise shows up at the screen test. Things spiral from that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method

**Author's Note:**

> AngelicSentinel is proud to present:
> 
>  
> 
> _Method_
> 
>  
> 
> A Skip Beat! production in Five Acts.
> 
> Directed, written, and produced by AngelicSentinel,
> 
> With special thanks and disclamation to Yoshiki Nakamura;  
> Hakusensha, Inc. and Hana to Yume;  
> Viz Media for the English localization.
> 
> The real copyright holders and publishers. Without them, this delightful series would not  
> exist.
> 
> Written for the Skip Beat Secret Santa 2015.

Act I: The Screen Test

i.

Kyoko stared at the script the head of the Acting Department, Sawara-san, gave her. As her _de facto_ manager, he was often responsible for bringing her new projects. As she opened it, a loose page slipped out.

She grabbed it before it could hit the floor and read,  “森 仁美: lead” with the name “Mori Hitomi” transliterated in romaji underneath. Also a date, address, studio number, and time, with the words “Screen Test,” in bold. “Are you sure this is for me?” she asked hesitantly. “You must have made a mistake!” She looked around the empty Love Me room, almost expecting to see someone else waiting for it, but she and Sawara-san were the only ones in there. He was standing by the door, while she was resting in one of the chairs at a table, having just returned from helping the talent department transfer props to a new room

“I don’t think so, but let’s see here,” Sawara-san began thumbing the screen on his smartphone until he hit the email from the president. He showed it to her, and there it was in black: _Make sure you deliver it to Kyoko-san ASAP! -Lory “_ No, no mistake. Direct orders from the president for you to take a look at the film script. This one’s all yours, Kyoko-san,” he said, trying to edge surreptitiously out of the room. It was always a toss up as to how Kyoko was going to take a particular role, whether or not she accepted it, and he wanted to be out of the way before the storm hit. Good or bad, he was sure it would be something else.

“Wait a second. This is a _film_ role?” she pressed him, almost numb with shock. She leaned forward, her hands clasped so tightly to the script they were white, her legs tucked behind the leg of the chair. Sawara wondered why she didn’t fall.

“Yes, Kyoko-san,” Sawara-san said. “Your debut, if everything works out—”

He was still speaking, but Kyoko had already tuned him out, lost in thought, her mind racing. The President in _**that**_ conversation had said she’d improved on that unspeakable emotion, but to consider her improved enough so soon? For a film? It couldn’t be!

Things hadn’t changed that much since Guam in the spring, not really. Most of the year had been spent working on the projects she’d already had, with a commercial here or there, and even a few modeling shoots. No new dramas or mini-series, but she had kept very busy. And now this out of nowhere. This was big. Really big. She quickly examined her actions over the past year. She’d been good at hiding **it** and not letting how she really felt show, no matter what.

The President and she had very different ideas about what constituted the emotion still, and it burned a little that he had seen and confronted her about that little box she kept hidden, the locks smashed to pieces and unable to reform, no matter how hard she tried. And she did try.

Then what Director Sawara said hit her. “DEBUT?” she screeched, clasping her hands together in front of her, stars in her eyes.

Sawara-san inched back from his position at the edge of the door and turned to her, putting his fist in front of his mouth and clearing his throat.  “Ahem, yes, if the director decides to cast you, of course. It’s a little strange, but the director herself handpicked you for this project, so you skipped the basic audition process to narrow the casting. It’s now a matter of you fitting their idea, hence the screen test tonight.”

Kyoko tilted her head. “Screen test?”

“It’s a filmed audition. You’ll have someone read you lines from the script, and you respond in character with your lines. Sometimes you do with with your screen partner or fellow cast mates. It’s surprising you haven’t had one yet. Surprised they gave you a script, come to think of it. Plenty of people just do a cold reading,” Sawara explained. “It has the benefit of allowing them to see your suitability behind camera.”

“Oh!” Kyoko said. “I think we did that for _Box R._ ”

“I figured as much. It seems you’re growing something of a reputation, very good for one as new as you are in the industry.”

She scrambled to her feet and moved to him, bowing at his feet, her forehead touching the floor. “Thank you, Director Sawara-sama.”

“It’s no trouble, really, and you might want to save some of that thanks for the Director, okay, Kyoko-san?” Sawara-san said, and then he booked it out of the room, grateful that she was happy and those _things_ hadn’t held him in place again.

She moved back to her seat, just staring at the script on the table. “Debut,” Kyoko said again to herself, running her hands over the pale blue cover of the script. _This Life_ was written on the cover in English.

She opened it and began to read, furiously flipping through the pages as her interest grew. Some time later, she sat back and took a deep breath. It might be a challenge. Hitomi was far more mature than any character she’d played before. Mio was angry and spiteful, Natsu was bored and cruel, and Setsuka was indifferent and proud. Hitomi operated on several different levels at once, and she felt so _real_.

What an interesting concept. Hitomi was sick. Very sick, and she hadn’t let anyone know. It added to the fact she was a lonely character, and very different from anyone Kyoko had played before. She had friends, but she cut herself off from them. She had family that loved her that she wouldn’t come around.

That was something of an antithesis to Kyoko. Having no one herself until just recently, Kyoko couldn’t fathom not being around her friends or senpai. Family….was better left unsaid. She and _that woman_ had reached an understanding, but that was all it was. It was all it ever could be. She was grateful to her, but it couldn’t fix years of heartbreak.

But the really interesting part was the story of the two leads. Tied together for eternity by the red string of fate, they followed each other through the reincarnation cycle, always born around the same time, sometimes as friends and sometimes as lovers, and the movie would cover some of that, with even more left unsaid. It was almost like a fairy tale, including the happy ending (though it could be seen as a little bittersweet).

Not only was she playing Hitomi the university student and rich young lady, she’d also be playing a queen at one point, as well as a woman with a background that wasn’t in the script and would be added later to preserve the mystery. Three frames, each with their own distinct story.

But family….she didn’t have any idea how she was supposed to act! Her first instinct was to call Tsuruga-san, but she remembered him holding her when she thought he was Corn and colored, faint pink tinging her cheeks. No, he was probably busy. She didn’t ever remember him talking about his family anyway.

But she did know someone who had plenty of family experience. She picked up her phone and hit speed dial one.

“What!?” an irritable voice answered.

She didn’t say anything, letting the line be silent for a long time as she struggled to gather her words. How should she put it? She knew they didn’t like talking about it. How to ask? Kyoko tapped her chin, lost in thought.

“Kyoko, is that you?” The voice said. “This better not be like the time you left me twenty blank messages, or the time you had me convinced you were dying because you just kept making little choking noises whenever you tried to speak!”

That caused the dam to break. “MOKO-SAN!” Kyoko wailed into the phone. “I don’t understand!”

“Mo, you don’t have to shout,” Kanae said, holding her phone far away from her ear. “I’m on break from shooting at my drama. I don’t have much time. What do you need?”

“Okay,” Kyoko said, sniffling. “I need your help!”

“I knew it,” Kanae said, and there was a snapping sound over the line. “What is it this time?”

“I just got a new script and—”

“You need my help with it?” Kanae asked, almost eagerly, but she hid that with a hard, gruff tone.

Kyoko frowned, “Yes but I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy—”

“I’ll be there after work. I’ve only a couple more hours and you don’t have anything but Love Me work until Bo, right?” _Take that Tsuruga Ren, HA! Still winning! She asked for my help, not yours. Best friend wins again!_

“Right,” Kyoko said. “Thank you, Moko-san!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get up, don’t bow, I can’t even see you anyway.”

Kyoko blinked from her position on her knees where she was already halfway into seiza, preparing to touch the floor with her head. “How did you know?”

“Forget it. They’re calling us back. See you soon,” and with a beep, Moko-san hung up.

ii.

“Ren, you got a minute?”

“Just give me a second, Yashiro-san. I’ll be right there.” Ren let his sleeves fall, frowning. They would wrinkle, and the shirt was expensive. Not his problem, but wardrobe’s. He shook his head, and removed his shirt, putting on the one he’d worn to the shoot. Then he put on his R☆Mandy suit coat, smoothing out his lapels, checking himself in the mirror to make sure he looked the part of unflappable Tsuruga Ren. He scoffed at himself. All he could see was a sham. Kuon stared back at him with dark, murderous eyes and a cruel smirk. He shuddered, and shook his head to clear it. It had been a long day, and it wasn’t even half over.

He was beginning to accept that part of himself, but on long days like this it was hard, the past rising from the surface out of nowhere, no matter how well he thought he’d quelled it.

The truth was, no matter how well he could act, Kuon _was_ Ren, and it was wrong to deny that part of himself, even if it wasn’t even truly him anymore; he was a blend, the mask having become the face. Kyoko had taught him that there were good parts of Hizuri Kuon and bad parts of Tsuruga Ren. He’d just forgotten the former.

He took a deep breath and centered himself, and when he looked back up, he was Tsuruga Ren again. He was becoming the the best parts of both. He had to remember that. Every day was a choice.

Maybe part of that was just growing up.

He hoped Kyoko was doing alright. It had been several weeks since they’d done more than say hello to one another, and he hoped she didn’t think he was deliberately ignoring her, especially considering today of all days. He had a plan for later today. He was always so busy, and as her fame was rising, she received more work, and so they saw less and less of one another. But he didn’t even have time to think on it right now.

He stepped out the dressing room with his name on it to find Yashiro leaning against the wall, holding a package out to him. “Express courier delivery,” Yashiro said. “Looks pretty important.”

Ren squinted at the address. It was from LME. “I’m supposed to be heading back to the office at six. I wonder why it couldn’t wait. Give it here.”

Yashiro did.

Ren ripped open the packaging, handing the trash to Yashiro. He pulled out a blue script, and it had a note from the president. “‘You should take a look at this one,’” he read. “‘Lory.’ Hmm. I still think it could have waited.”

“You do have to be back on the plane by tomorrow night to finish your filming,” Yashiro reminded him. “And the rest of your schedule today is full.”

“Yes, that is true,” Ren conceded. “How long until the interview?”

“A good hour. We can head there now and you’ll have plenty of time to read it. It means skipping lunch, though. “ Yashiro said, shrugging. Hmm. Yashiro must have picked the casual use of that from him since they had been spending so much time together lately. Maybe he’d been working too hard. Nah.

“You’re telling me to skip lunch? Don’t tell Mogami-san.” Ren said with a grimace. Yashiro winced.

“On second thought, I’ll see if they have a bento here,” Yashiro said. “Why don’t you get a head start on reading it? The studio is only fifteen minutes away.”

“All right. Thanks, Yashiro.” He turned to the script as his manager left the room. “This Life,” he read. He turned to the first page and saw a loose sheet tucked in behind the cover.

“前 田 蓮: lead” it said, with “Maeda Ren” in romaji below.  Also a date, address, studio number, and time with “Screen Test” written at the very bottom.

“A screen test?” He murmured. On such short notice about a film he’d never heard of and wasn’t even interested in? He sensed the Boss’s hand in this. Also, with the time, looked like he wouldn’t be heading to LME today at all. And Yashiro had cleared his schedule so he could spend a little time with Kyoko today.

Ren let out a heavy sigh. If the President thought he might be interested enough to go through all this, he’d have to go. There went his plans. He scowled. A mail wouldn’t be the best way, but he had planned on surprising Kyoko. He’d send it after the interview so he’d have more time to think about it. Maybe a phone call? Then again, she’d surprised him that one late night, and hadn’t minded that one night too much when he’d showed up unexpected—once he’d given her a good enough excuse, that is.

“‘Lotus in front of the rice fields.’ Someone had a lot of fun with this one,” Ren said to himself. The name was spelled with the same kanji as his stage name. Ren wondered if that was intentional. Definitely a ploy of the President’s.

He flipped the page over, seeing nothing but a blank back. “Doesn’t say who I’m set to star against, but the name of her character is ‘forest noble beauty?’” Ren shook his head. “A lot of fun.”

He sat down and started to read, hardly noticing when Yashiro came back in with his lunch. He ate mechanically and read on.

The script was melodramatic, and had he been back in the States, he would have called it Oscar-bait. It reminded him of that old saying: the only difference between pulp and art was that pulp had a happy ending. Still, it was a good read and had the potential to be great. A love that transcended time and physical boundaries.

He let out a deep breath, slow and steady. Okay, he’d figured the complexities out as Katsuki. But this script had a lot of subtleties as well, and would take a concentrated performance in order to unearth it all. Much of it depended on the actor’s perspective and how they chose to act.

He could see why the President had given it to him, but there was nothing particularly exceptional about it. A character-driven piece all about relationships. Very telling. Generally, the President was only this insistent when he wanted Ren to learn something.

It had better be worth it.

Ren wouldn’t worry about it overmuch. Either he’d get the part and act with aplomb, or he wouldn’t and there wouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Both worked for him.

iii

“Kyoko?” Kanae announced herself at the door of the Love Me room.

“Moko-san!” Kyoko leapt to her feet and ran for a hug. In a rare turn, Kanae stayed where she was, setting her multitude of bags down gently, and let Kyoko hug her without a fuss. She even hugged back. Kyoko pulled away, putting the back of her hand to Kanae’s head. “Moko-san, are you feeling okay?”

Kanae leaned down, grabbed ahold of shoulders, looked her in the eyes, and asked, “Am I okay? Are you okay?”

Kyoko furrowed her brows, “Yes…..? Why wouldn’t I be, Moko-san?”

“You mean you have no idea what today is. Like at all?” Kanae pressed, digging her long, slim fingers into Kyoko’s shoulder.

“Friday?” Kyoko said slowly and half questioning. She couldn’t see where Moko-san was going with this.

“The?” Kanae said.

“Twenty-fifth?” Kyoko said, continuing to look extremely confused.

Kanae made a little continue gesture with her hand. “Of?”

“December?”

“And all together?” Kanae asked.

“Today is Friday, the Twenty-fifth of December? I don’t get it, Moko-san, what are you trying to s—” Kyoko gasped and held her hand to her mouth.

“You finally get it?” Kanae asked her, eyes still locked.

She had to dodge as Kyoko’s hand nearly hit her as Kyoko slammed her fist down into her other open palm. “Maria-chan’s birthday was yesterday! I forgot with everything I have going on, but I knew I’d be busy so I sent it early this year!” she said with satisfaction.

Kanae felt her face twitch. “Right, you forgot _Maria-chan’s_ birthday. Mo, Kyoko, you don’t do things by halves, do you?” she said, grumbling, but there was warmth in her voice.

“Moko-san?”

She picked up her bags from where she had dropped them by the door, and held the largest out to Kyoko. “I hope you like it. Happy Birthday, Kyoko.”

Kyoko blinked. “Oh, that’s right. It is today, isn’t it?” She chewed on her lip. “I’d completely forgotten. “

Kanae pushed it toward her. “Well, go ahead! Open it!”

Kyoko did, unfolding the paper reverently. She really had forgotten. Everyone had been so busy, including her, that they had no time to put on a Happy Grateful Party, and she was used to being forgotten. It’s not as if she liked the feeling by any means, but she understood. Even Tsuruga-san hadn’t said anything today.

She blinked away the sudden tears that threatened to well up. Maria-chan had sent her a gift and a mail, but she was out of the country. So was Tsuruga-san, but she hadn’t even gotten a call. She was being silly. She clenched her mobile tightly in her hand.

But Moko-san hadn’t forgotten, even when she did. She really was a good best friend. “Thank you, Moko-san,” Kyoko said fervently.

“Whatever,” Kanae said. “Just open it already.”

Kyoko did, peeling back the happy christmas paper and lifting out a Faerie Cosmetics kit, similar to the Royal one from last year, except it was larger and contained more product. Lipstick, mascara, eye-shadow, foundation, contour—it had everything, and in many shades. It was even designer, from the Julie line.

The primer came in a little shimmering heart-shaped container, and it even had _fragrance_. In a little crystal bottle shaped like a fairy, with thin delicate wings outstretched like she was in mid flight.

It must have cost a fortune.

“Moko-san,” Kyoko said, her voice trembling, “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.” She felt tears welling up, but didn’t try to stop them this time.

Kanae had tensed, expecting more wailing and maybe a tackle hug, but at this uncharacteristically quiet response, she said, “Well, if you really wanted to thank me, you could call me Kanae.” She looked away at that, but Kyoko saw the blush dusting her cheeks, no matter how she tried to hide it with a stern glare. “Or you know, Moko, if you’re really attached to the nickname.”

Kyoko felt a quiet warmth bubble up from her heart, making it feel like it was going to burst. Before she knew what she was doing, she stood and gave Kanae a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Moko.”

Kanae’s eyes softened at that, and she pulled Kyoko to her chest, embracing her tightly. Kyoko snuggled into her warmth. “You’re very welcome, Kyoko.” Normally, she’d push her away, but it was her birthday, and Christmas. She could indulge her one day of the year. That’s what friends were for, right? And at least there was no ice cream. That she knew of. Kanae frowned. She could feel the calories just from the thought of it.

She cleared her throat, and they sat down on the settee.  “Anyway, you said you needed help with a script?”

“Yeah. Hitomi-san doesn’t want to come around her family. I mean, it’s a large one like yours, but they aren’t loud or wild or noisy,” at Kanae’s sharp look she let out a quick “Sorry! But she’s dying, and if you have supportive family, wouldn’t you want them to be there? I don’t know! I don’t have any experience with this kind of thing, Moko-sa—” Kyoko saw Kanae’s glare and corrected herself. “Moko.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be a burden on them, Kyoko. I think you understand that well.” Kanae reached down to grab Kyoko’s hand, and she linked their fingers together. “She probably doesn’t want them to miss her when she’s gone, and thinks it would be better if they hurt now, rather than later. “

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Kyoko said in a burst of sound, jumping to her feet. Kanae deliberately didn’t mention Kyoko’s similar behavior, though it tended more towards avoidance, extreme politeness, and apology, sincere or not. Kyoko absolutely hated being thought of like a burden. “They don’t treat her like a burden at all!”

Kanae steadfastly refused to comment. Kyoko thought so little of herself when she was such an amazing person. How could Kyoko not see it was the same for her friends? And make no mistake, Kyoko and Kanae were friends, no matter how much she’d fought it in the beginning. She could admit that now, though she didn’t like to.

“Here, let me see.” Kyoko handed Kanae the script. She flipped through each page, and when she was done, she handed it back to her. “No it doesn’t, but sometimes people don’t always cope with terrible things in the best of ways.”

“I see,” Kyoko murmured, thinking of her mother and Ren at his worst when he was not-Ren  “They don’t.”

The Love Me women talked about the script, Hitomi, and her characterization for a bit, laying the groundwork for her upcoming audition. But it had been a long day for Kyoko, so it wasn’t long before she nodded off, her head leaned into Kanae’s shoulder, burrowing into her side.

She was also drooling, her mouth hanging open, and some of it had gotten on Kanae’s shirt. She scowled, but didn’t push her away; instead, Kanae shifted them both so that Kyoko was in a more comfortable position.

She’d wake Kyoko in time to make it to her screen test, but Kanae didn’t have anywhere to be, and Kyoko deserved the rest.

iv.

SBS Studios wasn’t terribly far from LME, and Kyoko made it with plenty of time to spare. As soon as she got to the desk, the receptionist led her through the building to a small green room with mirrored glass. After they made sure she had her script and gave her some refreshments, they left her sitting there. Alone.

Kyoko looked around.  The room was bare except for a conference table and some chairs. There were two doors, though, at opposite ends of the room. The chairs were wheeled and swivel though, and she was short enough that her feet hung down and didn’t touch the floor. She scooted back and forth, wheeling herself across the room.  Several minutes passed, and Kyoko began fidgeting. It was already past time for the audition to start.

She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep on Moko-sa—On Moko like that, especially after she had gone out of her way to help her work on her script! She moved across the room, rolling in the chair, and then caught herself on the table. Then she started tapping the table with her fingers.

Hitomi was an accomplished musician, capable across several mediums. As Kyoko tapped out a song, she could feel herself transforming, little bits of her character popping out. She pictured her hair long and elegant and perfect, just like Moko-san, and immediately straightened, picturing a violin on her shoulder and a bow gliding across the strings. She closed her eyes, and around her the room melded and blurred into her apartment in downtown Tokyo; she heard the sound of the cars rushing by, and felt the wind on her face from the balcony as she started to play.

She continued with the concerto, flowing into the next movement as the orchestra rose in her mind. She moved around the small space, swaying to the music only she could hear before putting bow to string as the music rose higher and higher.

She didn’t hear the door open, or the heavy footsteps of the person who entered. Only when she turned and saw the hulking shadow of the man did she gasp and drop her violin from her shoulder. Kyoko slipped out for a moment as she showed genuine surprise at Tsuruga Ren’s appearance, but she just as quickly shoved it behind the spirit of Hitomi. “You,” she said, voice laced with venom.

“Sibelius. The Violin Concerto. You always played that beautifully,” the man said, hands in his pockets. “Even the ‘ _Allegro, ma non tanto_.’”

“Maeda-san,” Hitomi said, drawing out his name, setting her violin down and crossing her arms. “What are you doing here?” She craned her neck up. She always forgot how tall he was, and built like a common laborer. His large hands were elegant on the cello, however—and other places.

“I came to see you. You weren’t at the concert hall tonight. I was worried,” Ren said. Hitomi huffed and then turned her head, not seeing how Ren reached out, and then pulled back, thinking better of it. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. This is the third time this week. If you keep this up, the Maestro’s going to have no choice but to let you go.”

“So let me go,” she said, squaring herself, turning to look him directly in the eyes.

“They can’t—I can’t. The whole orchestra needs you, Look, Hitomi, I don’t know what’s going on, but if you could just tell me—”

She twisted her mouth into pale imitation of a smile. “Oh, the whole orchestra, huh? Sachiko-chan is the reserve violinist. Ask her.” Jealousy came easy. God, Hitomi hated that emotion. Useful to mask other things though.

“She doesn’t have your technical skill. Everyone knows it. What’s going on?” Ren pressed. “This isn’t like you. If you’re in some kind of trouble—”

“Trouble?” Hitomi repeated, raising her voice. “Trouble?!” She said again. “You think I’m the kind of person that would be in _trouble_?” Her voice raised another octave. “Did you ever really even know me?”

“Tomi-chan—”

Hitomi flung out her arm. “Don’t call me that.”

Ren loomed over her. “Don’t interrupt me!” He said, reaching out his arm to touch her, yearning for some kind of connection. It was all slipping out of his hands so fast, spiraling further and further down out of his control.

Hitomi grabbed him on the wrist, hard, before he could connect and pushed him away. “Don’t try and intimidate me, either. I thought you were better than that.”

“Seems we both thought wrong, then.”

Suddenly, Hitomi felt faint as emotion overwhelmed her and a thundering pain exploded behind her eyelids. She grabbed at her skull and staggered forward, nearly falling but for his arms.

“Tomi-chan!” Ren yelled, grabbing her to steady her. “Are you alright?”

“Such a stupid question,” Hitomi said through gritted teeth. “Clearly not.”

“You’re sick. What is it? Migraines?” Ren said. “Cancer?” Hitomi couldn’t help but blanch, all the blood running from her face at his second word. He nodded upon catching her face, his face in a half grimace, half smile. “That’s it, then. Terminal I expect, and in the brain.”

“How is it any of your business?” Hitomi asked bitterly. “We’re nothing to each other. Just co-workers.” And Kyoko felt herself wobble out, just a little bit. The bitterness rang a little more sincerely than she would have liked, though she supposed it only helped her acting.

“How is any of my business?” Ren said incredulously. “K—Hitomi, I—”

She whirled, nearly falling over with dizziness as she spun on her heel.  “Don’t say it—” “—Love you!” they said in unison.

Hitomi clenched her fists at her sides. They shook and were white with the strength of her grasp. Tears filled her eyes, and she started to cry, angry. “Don’t lie!” she screamed. “Don’t lie,” she murmured, her head down.

He violently shook his head. “No.” Ren’s voice, low, urgent. “I’ve loved and lost you over a thousand lifetimes, and now that I’ve found you, I’m not going to lose you. Not again. Not in this life.”

Hitomi looked up. “You remember?”

Ren grabbed her hand. “I do.” He pulled her hand to his face, and as her eyes cut to his lips and dilated, he then knelt down to kiss her—

“—And cut!” The loud sound of a clapperboard. “I do miss using those in actual filming. The digislates are more accurate and easy to synch but you lose something, I think.” A short-haired woman wearing a furred velvet cape, a doublet, hose, and ruffled pantaloons said. A tam o’shanter sat crooked on her head.

Forgetting himself, and energy elevated by the almost kiss, Ren said, “Kyoko-chan, that was brilliant! You were perfectly in character!” She’d improved so much from _Dark Moon_ it was astounding, and she was scary then! The breadth of her emotion, how she had led him to act things he didn’t know he had inside of him. And he was the veteran! He could feel his pulse race, and it was for more than the almost kiss.

She’d challenged him with her acting. He’d never felt as close to an equal as he did now. It would only make his acting stronger. Who was he to deny her?

Kyoko blinked. “Tsuruga-san?” she tilted her head. Then she colored as she realized what she had almost done. Kissed Tsuruga-senpai, and almost for real this time! Brazen _brazen_ hussy!

“So you’re my actors for _This Life_? Lory was _totally_ right.” The woman said “totally” in English. She held out her hand to Kyoko, who was a little puzzled. The woman grabbed her hand and shook it up and down. “Hiya, I’m Satsuki Satsuki, but you can call me Satsuki Squared or just Satsuki.” She shrugged. “Director Satsuki will work too, I think. I’m the director, and needless to say, you both just _bulldozed_ right through my expectations. What chemistry! I could feel the heat from here!” She fanned herself with her hand.

Ren cursed in his head. Was he that obvious?

“Chemistry?” Kyoko squeaked. She peered up at Ren out of the corner of her eye. She hoped he couldn’t tell!

“Needless to say, you’re both part of the project, if you’ll have me,” Director Satsuki said, smiling, her hands behind her head.

For a chance to see the new, improved Kyoko and how she had progressed in acting? “I’ll do it.” Ren said immediately, showing one of his true smiles.

For a chance to finally act as lead facing Ren as in equal as she had wanted to do since _Ring-Doh_? _Yes, please! “_ I’m in,” Kyoko said immediately after Ren, grinning.

The Director clapped and rubbed her hands together. “Great! Let’s get started!”


End file.
